Diary of a Madwoman's Idiot Friend
by Virgins-and-Surgeons
Summary: My name is Jill Gabriel, and this is my diary, a detailed account of how my ditzy friend Helen, with her stupid crush on the city's biggest criminal, Joker, ended up getting us both into huge trouble with him and nearly got us killed. I want to hit her.
1. Birthday

Jill Gabriel, November 16, 2008

Entry: Birthday

Dear Journal, today is my fifteenth birthday. I just got this new journal, from my brother Alan. He says I need to write in it because it's therapeutic. He's insane. I don't need therapy. But I don't want to hurt his feelings and tell him that this is a stupid gift, so I'll use it for him.

Alan: if you are reading this, this diary was a stupid gift. Just to let you know, since you always say that honesty is the best policy. And stop reading my diary, you asshole.

Now that that's over with, I should describe myself in case I ever get amnesia and, for some reason, have nothing but this journal on me. Somehow.

Your name, amnesia-affected self, is Jill Gabriel. You are fifteen on November sixteenth, 2008. You live in Gotham City. You have shoulder-length deep brunette hair and brown eyes. You have a brother named Alan, who is a jerkass at times, and has blond hair and pretty blue eyes that you wish you had. You have a mother named Jillian who has blond hair and green eyes, and a father named Alexander who has brunette hair and blue eyes. They live in Metropolis, and their phone number is 774-2692. Call them now and tell them that you don't know your name and that you need help.

You also have a best friend named Helen Fuchs. She is sixteen and has pretty blond hair that you also wish you had. She also has very dark eyes that look black that you are glad you do not have. If mama and dad are not home, call her instead; she'll come bitch to you about her obsessions, since you can't remember hearing them before and will therefore not scream at her to shut the fuck up about them.

Back to the journal part: today is my birthday. I live with Alan in our small apartment and go to high school, like everyone else does. Alan is twenty-five. He's a good guy, works hard, wants me to stay living with him in Gotham instead of uprooting and moving to Metropolis with our parents. I want to stay here too, so I'm good with it. I think I have to stay, if only to take care of Helen.

It'll sound weird, creepy people reading my diary, but even though she's much prettier than me, and has lots of friends, she really only hangs out with me. Why? Because I'm the only one that'll listen to her go on and on about her crush. You're thinking, 'Oh, it's some high school guy, or maybe some actor she'll never meet'. Something normal like that.

Oh no.

Helen won't shut up about the new up-and-coming Public Enemy Numero Uno. Yeah, she's got a crush on the fucking Joker. She won't shut up about him, either; it started out a little weird, but tolerable; who hasn't had a bit of a thing for someone that they'll NEVER EVER MEET, EVER? I thought she'd get over it.

No.

It's been a solid week of, "Oh, did you see the Joker bomb this?" Or "Hey, Jill! Look at this picture in the newspaper, isn't he sooooo hawt?"

FUCKING HELL.

But other than that neurose, she's pretty awesome. We hang out all the time, and when she's not going on about the Joker, we talk and laugh and stuff. Best friend I ever had.

Well, I suppose this should be enough for today. Helen and I are going to hang out later on a birthday joyride, maybe have some fun.

-Jill


	2. HELL

Jill Gabriel November 17, 2008

Entry: HELL

YOU'LL NEVER GUESS WHAT HAPPENED, CREEPY PEOPLE AND/OR ALAN.

You know how Helen and me were going on that joyride? Yeah, I let Helen drive, since it's her car and all. She wanted to anyway and I wanted to see the city. Well, she drove, and I learned that she fucking sucks at driving. She runs a red light, and gets pulled over by the cops. We're in the middle of getting a ticket when the cop looks down, more of a glance really, into the seat. You know what he finds?

Guess. GUESS.

It's not Helen's car, it's her stepbrother's. And he's a raging junkie.

THEY FIND FUCKING METH IN THE CAR. ENOUGH TO CHARGE FOR INTENT TO SELL.

So I'm pleading, Helen is saying it's her brother's car, and the cop is arresting us for possession with intent to sell.

Why don't you take a guess of where we're on the way to right now? THE POLICE STATION. JAIL. WE'RE GOING TO DIE.

I'm ignoring Helen as I write, and she's tugging on my sleeve and screeching, 'It's my brother's, it's not mine!! My parents'll come and fix it!' I'm still ignoring her, wrathfully. Helen hates being ignored, but y'know what? I hate being arrested for her brother's stash. WE'RE GOING TO GET LIKE TEN OR TWENTY YEARS IF THEY DON'T FIX THIS SHIT.

Well, the cop is pulling in at the station right now, so it might be a little while (maybe a decade) before I get to write again. There's a commotion at the PD tonight; did we miss something big?

Hopes and cheers (and things to hit Helen with)

-Jill


	3. OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD

Jill Gabriel

Some-fucking-time in the morning

Topic: OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD

OH. GOD.

You know how we got arrested last time, creepy people reading my diary? Alan? Yeah, we got arrested for Helen's brother's meth. Anyway, we see some big fucking commotion at the police station, and when they lead us in, we find out why.

Helen. Goes. Berserk.

Apparently, they caught him. Not just anybody, OH NO. THEY CAUGHT JOKER. THE DAY…THE _NIGHT_ WE GET ARRESTED, THIS EXACT NIGHT IS WHEN IT _HAD_ TO HAPPEN.

He's in his isolated cell at the back of the room, right? Helen's having a miniature panic attack right next to me as they lead us in to get booked. I'm speechless. One of the cops asks me if Helen has some sort of medical condition, because she's having an attack or something. I tell him that she's just…like that, because I'm all fucking dizzy and shit because WE ARE GOING TO GO TO PRISON.

We get booked, me and Helen (I know it's supposed to be 'Helen and I', but fuck you English language), and they walk us out to find an empty cell to put us in. There's one cell full of Joker thugs, I think that's what they were, hooting and whistling at us. Two teenage girls, dressed kind of slutty because we could. Okay.

There's the other cell, which has the Joker in it. By then, I'm super hoping that there's an empty cell somewhere else. Helen, however, is probably not, and she's finally fallen into a shocked silence. She's staggering around like a drunk zombie. Yeah, zombies probably can't get drunk, but who gives a damn. I don't. You don't. Zombies probably don't. Let's go on.

The cops start talking about something else, and I'm like, 'Oh thank god' when they put us in a holding cell that's not Joker's or the thug's.

One problem. It's right _next_ to the Joker's. Luckily, he just glances at us, and then looks away, because we're just two stupid kids.

IT SHOULD HAVE STAYED LIKE THAT. IT REALLY SHOULD HAVE.

But nooo. No-o-o-o-OOOO. Helen has to be a DUMB BITCH. I know I sound like a bitch when I talk about her like this, but imagine you're in this exact situation with your best mate. You and your buddy are sitting in a jail cell right next to the fucking Joker, mass terrorist, conscienceless homicidal maniac, wearing clown paint that's running, and generally looking really fucking crazy. Like a terrorist John Wayne Gacy, except without the pedophilia. I think. Who cares. Point is, you're sitting in a cell right next to this freak, so close that if you were standing in front of the bars and so was he, you could _touch each other_. You, _you_ don't want to be anywhere near this guy.

But your mate, (s)he decides that it'd be a great idea, like Helen did, to sit beside the bars and _whisper_ at this guy. You're hissing at her to shut the fuck up before he looks at you, like I was doing. He's ignoring you both, flawlessly. Guy had some serious concentration going on, with all the cops banging their nightsticks against the bars next to his head and all the other inmates hooting and hollering at him, and now having some ditzy teenager trying to get his attention, desperately. Anyway, after about ten minutes of this bullshit, he finally seems to snap and looks at both of you, not just her, but you too, and says, pretty calmly, "And _what_ would you two be wanting?"

I'm freaking out, waving my hands in a rapid 'no, I don't want to talk to you please Christ ignore me', and Helen pulls something out of her shoe. She's been patted down, but that doesn't stop her from hiding shit. She's hiding a knife in her shoe, and now she pulls it out, slowly, and offers it to him.

I'm thinking:

_WHAT. THE. HELL. HELEN I AM GOING TO KILL YOU_

And then he cracks a smile, and I'm like, 'Ohgodohgodohgod'. LIKE ANY NORMAL HUMAN BEING SHOULD BE. Even the other inmates are like, 'Hey, don't do that, he's crazy and he'll kill you'. Does dear Helen listen? _No_. Joker taps his foot on the floor of the cell, twice, and I don't know how but Helen deciphers this magical code of crazy and slides the knife along the floor to him, real casual, and he's quick to scoop it up and hide it. He winks at her, and she melts like butter, blushing, smiling dopily, before the cops escort him out to be interrogated or something. As soon as he's gone from view, I'm grabbing Helen and shaking her like I'm going to shake the stupid crush right out of her empty head.

"Are you _fucking_ insane?" I whisper, hoarsely, at her, and she pouts and shoves me off of her.

"Shaddap. I did what I wanted; just look away if you don't like it. Did you see the poor guy? The cops are _harassing_ him." She clasps her hands in front of her, over her heart, and my palms are itching; I want to slap her as hard as possible, because she's stupid. Lovesick, idiotic, lacking common sense (and sanity). Generally a moron. She used to be so damn smart, too; wouldn't even think about doing something so reckless as give a murderer a knife. But love, puppy love at very best, makes intelligent people very stupid.

So we're chilling in the holding cell. I'm laying on my side on the little bench, trying to sleep. Helen is keeping vigil for her knight in shining grease paint. Though the shine is probably nothing but sweat; this place is fucking hot. All the cops rush out the door at once, and Gordon (I always thought that guy looked trustworthy, glad to have him, and even weirder an honor to be one of the first to see him get promoted to Commissioner) is running out with 'em. Oh, and I see the Batman rushing out too, and it's so crazy how one night in jail can get you a first person look at the city's biggest celebrities.

So, a little bit later, we hear more commotion. Some guy is whining about his stomach hurting in the next cell. Then Joker walks out, hostage in hand, and demands…cell phone. He wants a cell phone. I'm like, "what the hell", sitting up, alarmed, and Helen is like, "Omg he's back yay" and is like pathetic.

Yeah. Then, for some ungodly reason, Joker glances at us, taps his foot on the floor once, and takes that cell phone and begins dialing. I'm like, "oh hell something is 'bout to happen" and I grab Helen and shove her to the floor, against the wall as far from Joker as possible.

Then shit blows up.

I'm dizzy, can't hear for shit, Helen rolls me off of her and, like, stares up at Joker as he waltzes up to the desk, reads something off briefly, gives us a very cheerful wave (which is really fucking scary) and then waltzes out, as if it hadn't just all happened.

Helen's then all sad that he's going. But she got to meet her celebrity crush, I'm thinking, so fuck, she's going to be talking about it for-fucking-ever, even though I wasn't three feet away during the entire goddamn rendezvous.

Right now I'm writing this from the corner of the cell, because this diary is what I've kept on me the entire time (hidden), and I don't know if he's coming back or not. Hope not. Cops are coming back; hope to god they're going to save us. I don't know if the building's going to hold out much longer.

If this is my last entry, creepy people and/or Alan, then we died because Helen is a dumb bitch.


	4. Dammit

Jill Gabriel

12:00 PM

Subject: Dammit

Well, good news and bad news, creepers and/or Alan: the Joker didn't kill us, and the police got us out of the building before it could collapse on and kill us.

Helen's parents brought in her junkie brother when they found out that me and Helen were caught with drugs in his car. And I shit you not, people, this is how this entire police encounter went.

Police: Son, is this yours?

Dipshit: No, no sir.

Helen: Robert! You know it's yours!

Police: I'm sorry, Ms. Fuchs, but we can't prosecute him for what we found with you if you've got no proof it's his.

-The cop begins to take the huge amount of meth to the back room-

Dipshit: Hey, I paid a fortune for that!!

-silence-

Me: Ha. Stupidass.

I'm serious. So me and Helen are off the hook. Alan, however, you prick, wants to keep me away from Helen now, because he says that she's dangerous. I'm grounded to my room right now, sitting on my bed, writing this. Unfortunately enough for Alan, I'm headstrong, stupid, and deciding to go out anyway. I'm perfectly aware that this is incredibly dangerous. Really, I am.

I'm just kind of a bitch. So I'm going. I'm, of course, taking this journal with me. Last will and testament if they ever find a mutilated corpse in an alleyway.

I, Jill Gabriel, bequeath whatever has not been looted off of my most likely mutilated corpse to Alan Gabriel, to be split with Helen Fuchs if she is so alive, which she is most likely not. I apologize to my brother, Alan, and would like to tell him that I was most likely going to be killed anyway at one point in time or another.

Don't tell mama and dad. Not until you're sure I'm dead.

Now that that's over. I'm going to leave out my window, which is right next to a tree that I can climb down. I'm going to see Helen tonight; we're meeting up in the Narrows.

Something compels me to be very stupid tonight. I think it's being a teenager.

Well, journal, I'll write to tell you about what happens later, if I'm still alive.


	5. WE'RE FUCKED OH GOD WHAT DO WE DO

Jill Gabriel

About an hour until FUCKING OBLIVION

Subject: WE'RE FUCKED OH GOD WHAT DO WE DO

OH GOD DIARY, WE WERE SO FUCKING STUPID I DON'T KNOW WHAT WE'RE GOING TO DO OH GOD OH GOD OH

-illegible scribbling-

We decided to break into a house. Me and Helen. Once we met up. In the Narrows. An old chemical factory on the outskirts of the narrows, been abandoned for longer than I've been alive. We were stupid and might have been a teensy bit drunk. An itty bitty bit. Helen brought a half-empty bottle of tequila, okay??

I'M A STUPID TEENAGER. YOU SHOULD HAVE EXPECTED ME TO SAY OH HELL YES LET'S DRINK DEVIL'S PISS.

So we did. And we decided it would be an OMG BESTEST IDEA EVAR to break into the chemical factory and look around for some reason. I have no idea what we were thinking that we'd find in there. Ghosts, probably. I don't. Fucking. Know.

We bust in there like drunk ninjas. Except giggling and fucking loud and falling all over ourselves and each other. And falling over a lot. Anyway. I think Helen and I weren't really all that drunk, but when you use the power of imagination, you can make yourself think you're really drunk. Any. Way.

We're creeping down the hallways. They're dirty. There's nothing fucking here. I'm like, 'Wtf, this is shite' and Helen's like, 'Omg I hear voices'. I go, 'Holy hell let's get out of here' and she's like, 'NOWAI LET'S GO INVESTIGATE', like we're the fucking Scooby Doo gang, and runs off towards the noise. I chase after her. I SHOULD'VE JUST TURNED AROUND AND WALKED AWAY, BUT NOOOO. I'M A GOOD FRIEND.

Fuck my life.

I follow Helen, and she's leaning against a wooden door, her ear against it, listening to whoever's inside. I'm running at her, about to pull her away and go "DUDE WHAT IF IT'S THE MAFIA THEY WILL FUCKING MURDER US".

I fucking _trip_.

_Fuck my life._

So we go careening against the wooden door, which by the way, isn't all that sturdy. Because it's a decades old chemical factory. We're fucking morons. The door flies open, and me and Helen hit the dirty concrete as soon as it does. I suddenly, like a fucking genius, realize that whoever is talking is not talking anymore. They're silent. They're probably watching us. So I don't look up, to try and see if they think we're dead, they'll just throw us outside and that'll be the end of it.

Helen looks up. I don't. She gasps. I do not. I'm fucking pretending to be dead. She's silent again, though she's sitting up and not moving.

"Well…wasn't expecting _guests_. I would've cleaned the place up a little bit." Is the first thing I hear. And then I don't hear anything, because I'm trying not to piss my pants.

_**Fuck. My. Life.**_

I finally sit up, and I fucking stare like a moron. OF ALL THE FUCKING PLACES WE COULD'VE BROKEN INTO, IT HAD TO BE THIS ONE. I HAVE THE WORST MOTHERFUCKING LUCK IN THE ENTIRE FUCKING UNIVERSE. YOU COULD THROW ME INTO A HERD OF BLACK CATS AND MAKE ME RUN THROUGH A COURSE OF LADDERS, STEPPING ON MIRRORS AS I RAN. THIS WOULD NOT MAKE MY LUCK ANY FUCKING WORSE.

You know whose hideout we broke into. You. Know.

I don't think I have to explain that WE'RE GOING TO FUCKING DIE. WE'RE GOING TO BE STRAPPED TO BOMBS OR CUT UP INTO TINY PIECES OR HAVE OUR JAWS BROKEN OFF WHILE HE CUTS OUT OUR TONGUES. WE. ARE. GOING. TO. DIE.

And what does Helen have to say to all of this? Sitting right in front of the fucking Joker, sure to die?

"I can't believe this is really happening…" She murmurs, and though I think the Joker thought she was saying it in horrified shock, I heard that tone. Not 'OMFG what do we do now we're going to DIE', like I was doing. No. Her tone was, 'I'm so happy about this horrible event that I could sing~'

So…yeah. I had this journal hidden on me (in my make-believe drunken stupor, I stuck it down my pants. This is the only reason that they didn't find it) and it's all I have left. Not long after we made our stupidass entrance, we got locked in a tiny storage closet that smells like the chemicals that your mother told you never to drink. There's barely enough room for me and Helen to sit across from one another. Did I mention that it's pitch fucking black in here? I'm writing by hoping that I'm on the line.

Helen is murmuring about how she's so lucky that this happened.

…

I have just slapped her for saying that. I have also just told her, as I write this, that she is out of her fucking mind. We have families that want us. WE ARE GOING TO DIE AT THE INSIDIOUS HANDS OF HER CELEBRITY CRUSH.

Helen has just cuntpunted me (for all you old people that don't understand our youngling lingo, that's when you haul off, like a crazy bitch, and kick a woman as hard as you can in between her legs. It hurts so fucking bad I'm about to cry) which hurts at a level of agony indescribable, and told me that I'm worrying too much, that I'm stupid, that I don't understand him like she does, and that we're going to be fine. Right now I'm laying, in agony, on what feels like barbed wire or a wire of some sort with sharp things on it.

If the Joker doesn't come back in ten minutes, I will have to strangle and then eat Helen.


	6. We're Screwed

Jill Gabriel

The eighteenth, I think

Subject: We're Screwed

Well, Helen isn't dead and I'm not in the process of chewing the flesh off of her arms for nourishment. Yet. Deus ex Machina came in the form of the Joker himself opening the door to see Helen on her knees at it, looking up at him with puppy eyes, and then I know he must've seen me with the barbed wire coiled around my fists, kneeled behind her, the wire pulled taut and held high above the crown of Helen's head. I had been in the process of preparing to strangle her with it.

It's now that I realize how insane that sounds. But yeah, I was pissed enough to want to kill Helen. Wouldn't you have been? Admit it. You'd have killed Helen yourself by now, wouldn't you, creepers? Alan?

So a couple henchclowns (that's what I'm calling them, I don't care if they insist that they're 'mercenaries') make sure we follow their creepy boss down the hallway, and my hands are kind of bleeding since I grabbed FUCKING BARBED WIRE. Helen remains blissfully unaware of the fact that there are drips of blood on her blond hair from where I was dripping on her.

Fuck do my hands hurt. Even writing is hard.

Well, we get shoved in some shitty little room full of broken things that are sharp. Great so far. Then Joker lectures us on breaking into people's homes. Except when he does it, it's fucking scary. I was kind of, you know, COWERING, but Helen, oh no, not the pretty girl Helen. I think that it kind of freaked the Joker out a tiny bit that this ditzy blond chick wasn't…scared…at all. I think. I don't know. You can't tell with that psychopath.

She was actually staring at him quite admiringly.

But god, oh god, oh god oh god oh god. He told us that we're going to be useful in one way or another, because we broke his door. And then after that, he started in on this monologue (Yeah, random monologue there) about how Helen gave him that knife, and how people are usually too wary of him to do things like that, and how she's either brave or stupid. I almost sit up and say "IT'S STUPIDITY", but I'm too busy having a meltdown to do it.

I'm like, 'OH GAAAAAAWWWD' over here, crying, but trying to be quiet. You know, LIKE NORMAL PEOPLE WOULD HAVE.

Get. This.

Helen is like, kneeling at his feet, and she looks up at him, bats her eyes, and says, and I fucking quote, "I'll do anything for you, just tell me what it is and I'll do it."

This is when I snap out of my normal-person-fuckingfreakout and grab Helen by the hair, drag her back, flip her around, and shake her like a Narrows mother shakes her child.

"You are a fucking crazy bitch, did you know that Helen?!" I snap at her, shaking her by the shoulders, momentarily forgetting that there's a homicidal guy in clown makeup and armed to the teeth not ten feet away from us. "We're going to DIE. Do you know what that word means? IT MEANS WE WILL SOON BE DEAD. IT MEANS THAT THIS GUY IS GOING TO MUTILATE US HORRIBLY." I'm like, screaming at this point in time, still shaking her.

Helen. Fucking. Punches. Me.

OUT.

She hits me with a left hook and it hits me in the eye, and I let her go. "Calm down, Jill! You're hysterical!" She tells me, and I'm like O RLY WHAT WAS YOUR FIRST CLUE. I would have been, at least, if she hadn't punched me in the FUCKING eye.

"Done?"

We're both like, oh yeah, there's a crazy guy here. And we sit up, me with my hand over my eye, and stare at the Joker again, like distracted preschoolers. I look at Helen, Helen looks at me, and then we both say, "Yeah."

Then he says something witty, which I can't remember because at that point I was looking at why my left hand hurt so bad and I lift it up and OH GOD I STUCK MY HAND IN BROKEN GLASS. So I'm like, freaking out right now (freaking out some more anyway), until he like, kicks me in the face and tells me to shut up. So now my face hurts, I have a black eye, there's glass in my left hand, both of my hands have nicks and cuts from the barbed wire, and Helen is being unsupportive.

"C'mon Jill, shush!"

She fucking shushes me. That's when I actually do hit her, with my non-glassy hand. Fucking punch the bitch.

"YOU CAN SHOVE YOUR FUCKING SHUSH!" I scream at her, and she shoves me, and I shove her back, and we're grabbing one another by the shirts and rearing back to punch, when we both realize that…we're alone.

He left. Maybe we're not interesting enough, or maybe all we do is shriek at one another and fight. Which we do. All the time. Because Helen is retarded and I'm a bitch.

Right now I'm in the corner of our room, writing furiously with a ragged corner of some cloth thing soaked in blood (I'M GOING TO FUCKING WRITE EVEN IF I HAVE TO DO IT IN MY BLOOD) and tossing glares now and then at Helen, who is on the other side of the room and glaring at me now and then too. She's going to wait for Joker to come back for us again. I...am not.

I see a window with rusty chains over it, and I'm going to try and break out. Wish me luck, creepers.


	7. Helen Fuchs must DIE

Jill Gabriel

I give up on the date

Subject: Helen Fuchs must DIE

Dear any creepers out there who are wizards:

Please cast a horrible curse on Helen Fuchs that will make the flesh peel off her bones and her eyes melt out of her sockets. The bitch got me caught.

Well, I got the rusty chains off the window. They just sort of fell off after I pulled. The rust was kind of sharp though; cut up my hands a little. So it came off, and there were two old boards over up the window. So I'm pulling one down when Helen jumps on my back and tries to pull me away from the window.

"Are you crazy?!" She's yelling at me, while I'm throwing elbows back towards her face and head and whatever the fuck I can hit. "If he catches you, you'll be killed!"

Helen, for once, has a point. But I'm desperate enough to gamble.

"Lemme go! I'm gonna try, goddammit!" I'm yelling back at her, though in a hoarse whisper to try and stay quiet, and she shrieks something else. I slam the back of my skull into her fucking face, knocking her off of me when I pull down the last board and crawl out the small basement window, into the grass and the fresh air.

That's when I'm bludgeoned with something heavy, and it hurts. I hit the grass like a lead weight.

"Hey, ya were right," One thug says to another, as the one not wielding a two-by-four that I vaguely realize has blood on the end of it drags me up by the hair. It fucking hurts. "That blond one screamin' was a tip-off. Ah well. Let's take her."

And so we go on a magical journey through dank hallways and puddles of very dark liquid that I don't want to think about. It's like Wonderland, except…ya know…I'M GOING TO FUCKING DIE.

AND YOU'LL NEVER GUESS WHO WE MEET UP WITH OUTSIDE OF OUR ROOM.

"I was expecting a jailbreak," I'm pretty dizzy right now and he's just a big blob of purple with Helen standing right next to him, a little too close for my comfort, "But that was _fast_."

"Mm…ya…just…keepin' on…keepin' on…"

Yeah. I'm so intelligent, aren't I, creepers? My vision was clearing up at about this point, and I see Helen standing really, really close to the Joker. Staring at her feet. When she inches close enough to touch him, and you're going to fucking laugh when you hear this, he sort of blinks, looks at her, and shoves her into a wall. _Hard_.

"Why don't you, ah, _mind_ yourself? You're hovering." He's telling her, and she nods and stands up, keeps to herself where he shoved her.

"Sorry boss; I'll try not to." She says. THIS IS WHAT SHE SAYS. I look up at her and give her the absolute dirtiest look I can fucking muster, because she is a dumb shit.

"BOSS?!" I'm howling at her, and it's a tone that starts out indescribable and turns into screaming. The thugs aren't expecting me to be lashing out at her like I am, and they lose their grip on me long enough for me to lunge like some sort of panther and tackle Helen, hands on her throat, throttling her. Alan, you might've been right about needing therapy. Rage issues, much?

"YOU'RE AN IDIOT AND I'M GOING TO STRANGLE YOU!" I keep raging at her, now trying to strangle her while I'm sitting on her stomach. "YOU DUMB BITCH! YOU'RE GOING TO DIE!! DIE!! YOU KNOW, THAT STATE WHERE YOU STOP FUCKING BREATHING BECAUSE YOUR TRACHEA IS CRUSHED?! YEAH, THAT!"

It's only a second or two that I get to throttle her and release all those angry feelings, because about a half second after that, she kicks me in the back of the head and happens to hit the same place I was bludgeoned like, five minutes ago. I black out and she shoves me off of her.

And then when I wake up, I'm tied to a chair. With handcuffs and rope. And my head feels like it's been put through a wringer. Helen walks in like half a minute after I wake up (paranoia fuel, much?), and she tells me that we're working for the Joker now, because she agreed to do it to save our lives.

I'm a dumbass.

I apologize. She says it's fine, I couldn't know. I ask when I'm going to be out of these handcuffs and off of this chair. She kind of shrugs. Says that she'll do what she can, try to keep the Joker from forgetting about me and letting me starve to death slowly.

Comforting!

I'm like, "So do you still love that freak?"

Helen's like, "Yeah. He's so amazing. Have you listened to him talk?! It all makes sense about the world!!" And then starts going on about how the world is evil and sucks and eats puppies or some shit like that. And I interrupt her.

"Yeah, yeah, he's the new Aristotle. You're still a psychotic love freak and he's still a psychotic." I tell her, and she glares.

"I'm not a love freak!" she snaps. I shrug, as much as possible anyway.

"Joker fangirl."

And then the bitch turns around, huffs, and walks out of the open door. Did I mention that this room, whatever one we're in anyway, is pitch-fucking-black? And she leans in the door and smirks, victoriously.

"Yeah? Maybe. But I'm not the one handcuffed in the dark!" She chimes, like a WHORE, and then shuts the door. Right now, I've worked out of the handcuffs, though I'm pretty sure that I've sheared off the skin from my wrists and the bottom of my hands, and I'm randomly writing and hoping I'm on the line. Writing in blood again. I hope this stuff is legible for when they have to identify my body.

Well, creepers, I'm apparently working for the Joker now. I'll let you know when I escape.


	8. Workin' for the FUCKING Man

Jill Gabriel

Afternoon-ish

Subject: Workin' for the FUCKING man

Yeah, I'm out of the chair. Some thug let me out like, a day later. I punched Helen in the shoulder for leaving me there, and she headbutted me. She's a bitch.

Right now I'm on a bus. In front of a hospital. Gotham General, if we're being all hoity-toity descriptive here. Helen's out to meet Joker right now, and I…yeah…he's wearing a nurse's uniform. There are things mortal eyes are not meant to see, and a crazy guy in clown paint and a nurse's skirt is ONE OF THEM. GOD.

Wait…hold on…

AHAHA!! AHAHAHAAHAHAHAAAAHA!

YOU CREEPERS ARE GONNA LAUGH.

Helen was waiting for Joker outside the door to the bus we're on (it's full of old people and cripples and dying people now, dammit), and when he came out and up to the bus (AFTER FUCKING BLOWING UP THE HOSPITAL), Helen got too antsy and tried to HUG him. So what's Joker do? He fucking slams her face into the side of the bus! The window's open; I heard him say something about 'look, don't touch' or something like that. She's getting up and her mouth or nose or something is bleeding. Pfft. Eat it, Helen.

So now the bus is moving. Helen's sitting next to me, dripping on things, with her hand over her mouth or nose or something. I'm giggling under my breath. She's calling me all sorts of names under hers.

Uh oh. Joker is saying something about a field trip.

Field trips sound bad. Real bad.

Get back to you later, creepers, Alan. I've gotta hide this.


	9. Boned

Jill Gabriel

Night

Subject: Boned

Well, we're boned. We are so fucking boned that I can't even describe how boned we are without my head FUCKING ASPLODING.

Didn't have time to write for a while, since me and Helen were apparently picked out to help out the other goons by dressing like doctors. We didn't get an explanation of WHY we were dressed like doctors, we were just sorta…told to.

Of course we did, Alan/creepers. Like YOU'D really tell Joker 'That sounds kind of like a stupid idea, so no dice'. I like having my intestines inside of my body, thankyouverymuch.

Didn't take long before Batman showed up and kicked ass all over the fucking place. Including mine. Right now I'm hanging upside down through some weirdass technique where something that feels like a cord is tied around my ankle and probably anchored to something else. It sucks. All the blood is rushing to my head.

Oh god, what if I die here??

…And before you wonder. Yes, I'm writing upside-down. It's very difficult. You have no room to judge me.

Well, now I'm looking out the window, and making myself sway…sorta. It's weird. And…there's the Joker, hanging out of another window. He's waving hi.

Whoop, there goes Batman. I waved hi. He ignored me. Rude bastard.

I hear cops. Get back to you later on if Helen's taken a swan dive out that big window. I haven't seen her yet. Goddamn Joker. He needs to quite waving at me; the cops are going to think we're cohorts or something.


	10. We are so fucking boned I can't even

Jill Gabriel

Night…or maybe day…something

Subject: So fucking boned I can't even describe

YOU WON'T GUESS WHAT HAPPENED. THIS DOES NEED ME TO USE CAPITALS TO DESCRIBE, BECAUSE IT

FUCKING

SUCKS.

SO THIS ENTIRE PAGE OR SO IS GOING TO BE IN FUCKING CAPS. DON'T LIKE IT?

FUCK

YOU.

RIGHT NOW I'M IN A COP VAN. THE JOKER IS RIGHT NEXT TO ME. HELEN IS ON MY LEFT. AYUP, I'M IN THE MIDDLE OF THE TWO OF THEM. I TRIED TO TELL THE COPS THAT ME AND HER WERE KIDNAPPED.

THEY DON'T

BELIEVE

ME.

CANYOUBELIEVETHAT? THEY DO NOT BELIEVE ME.

JOKER QUIT READING OVER MY SHOULDER. YES, I KNOW YOU'RE READING OVER MY SHOULDER. KNOCK THAT SHIT OFF. NO, I DON'T CARE IF YOU'RE READING AND IT'S RUDE FOR ME TO TELL YOU TO STOP.

…

THANK YOU FOR LETTING ME BORROW YOUR PEN TO WRITE WITH. THAT WAS VERY NICE OF YOU.

WE'RE HANDCUFFED AND RIDING TO…

DUN DUN DUN!!!

ARKHAM. YUP, WE'RE GOING TO FUCKING ARKHAM. ME. AND HELEN. AND THE JOKER. ALL TO ARKHAM. A TOODLE DE DOO DE DOO!!!!!

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

YES IT DID NEED THAT MANY EXCLAMATION POINTS, JOKER. IT'S FOR DRAMATIC EFFECT. QUITE READING MY DIARY.

NO, I DON'T CARE THAT I MISSPELLED 'QUIT'. I'M LEAVING IT, BECAUSE THIS IS A PEN.

THIS SUCKS SO HARD. I'M GOING TO KILL MYSELF. MAYBE. NO, WAIT, NO. I CAN'T LET HIM WIN.

HELEN, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD IF YOU DON'T SHUT UP I'M GOING TO SLAP YOU SO HARD

I NEED TO HIDE THIS DIARY AGAIN. THE COPS ARE PISSED THAT I JUST HIT HELEN, AND THEY'RE PULLING OVER.

FUCK


	11. Arkham

Jill Gabriel

Indoors…I have no idea what time it is

Subject: Arkham

Oh god…oh god oh god oh god

Okayay, so dey let me keeeep my diary (sounds like liar…eee)

So…yeeeeahh boyee, I'm in Ark…kram…krackerlam. Kinda calmeded dowwnonwn, since they drugged me withth…something…and I'm high as a kiyeeet (WROCEKTMAN BURNING AL HIS FUEL OUT HERE

ALONE) riyught now.

Ooowooo lookat my hand its so weird

And uh, uh, Helen's here too…tooooooo…look at al the ooooooosss

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

I'm bored of os now…anywhosits, Helen's here too…ooo…they did a strip searhc on mee an Helen…wasnt fun atall. Cold hands.

CAVITY SEARCH WHEEEHHEEE

We gotta go…toa courtsoon…just bein det…detached…detained DETAINED!! Here…

I GOTSA ROOMMATE THO

Name's…uh…I forget her name…mamemame

Nurse's heyarh…gotsa go…creppers…

LOVE AND PEACE


	12. Sucks

Jill Gabriel

Sometime

Subject: Sucks

Alright, I haven't written in…a long time. What, a month or two? I don't even know anymore. They took my diary and then we had to get ready for court. Seeing my messed-up last entry, I'll explain now that they've stopped drugging me into all that craziness.

Helen is a retard, still. (Wait, that might be offensive to somebody)

Helen is a stupid fucking whore. (That's better)

She told the Arkham staff that we worked for the Joker willingly. I was all like 'NOWAI SHE LIES I NEVER WANTED TO WORK FOR THAT FREAK IN MAH LIFE'.

Guess who they believed. Yup.

The staff all think I'm insane and lying about wanting to work for the Joker. Sucks. We went to court. I'm legally insane now, don'cha know?

Fuck my life.

Alan believes me. I ROVE YOU, ALAN. Helen is in a cell not too far away from the one I'm sitting in right now. GO DIE IN A FIRE, HELEN.

I'm NOT insane. But everyone else here says the exact same thing, too. I have a roommate. Her name is Thumbs. Anyway, that's what she told me. She's buff and scary and lifts weights. I'm afraid of her.

So they let me keep the diary for therapy, on the one condition that they review all of my entries. So I'm hiding all of these loose sheets in a super secret place, and writing a bunch of flowery "I'M SO GLAD I CAN GET BETTER HERE DERPDERPDERP" shit for them to feel good about in the actual book.

Oh yeah. I'm so smart.

Haven't seen the Joker in awhile. Thank god. Dinner at Arkham sucks so hard; everything is gooey and gross, like glue. THEY TRY TO MAKE THEIR OWN BOLOGNA AND IT DOESN'T WORK

I could just die. Talk to you all later, since here comes the nurse that looks like a man. Cheers.


	13. WHOJFFJOIF

Jill Gabriel

Arkham

Subject: WHOJFFJOIF

Weeheee…DA DRUGS! Pffhahfhhaha.

HOKAY, LETZ GET THISSS BIOTCH STARTED D

OH YEAH I USEDDD AN EMOTTICON

WHUT NAO :D :D :D :D

i'm done with :D now, too…ooooo…

HOKAY

Dey…had moar court (MOAR COURTZZ0) today…Joker…testifieeede in mah defense...I wuz piiassed…pissed…

JOKAR: LOLOLOLOL YAH SHE WERKED 4 ME LOLOLOL

P…PROSE…THAT ONE MEAN GUY: O RLY?

JOKER: YA RLY

P-GUY: 4 REALZ?  
JOKAR: YAH 4 REALZ

PP: N DID SHE WANNA?

JOKAR: IUNNO SHE NEVAR TOLD ME N I DIN'T ASK LOLOLOL

N den he made lotsa jokes…that were mean…n stuff…but I was pissed…n now im dri…drugged! drugged…

:D :D :D

OH YEAH

Some lady tried to attttackk Helen at coook=ie tiem.. Aftr lunchtiem…starttred screamin about "HELEN ILL KILL U" and was liek laughin at her while she tried ta rip her head off…said she was gunna shove it up her ass…but de orderlies (AND THE NUSRE THAT LOOKS LIEK A MAN) grabbed her n dragged her off 2 a padded sell…cell…who was that lady, anyway…?

Anywayway…Thumbs is tellin me 2 rite somethin in heeere…she says 'Why don't you write down in your little fag book "I'm a total pussy, I'm going to be sold as jailbait property for a pack of cigarettes, but not before I'm violated, because I'm a little bitch"'

I'm kinda fraid now. Thumbs is laffin'…

save me


	14. Damn Joker needs to die

Jill Gabriel

Arkham…still

Subject: Damn Joker needs to die

Off the juice again. Damn Arkham staff needs to fucking learn their pharmaceuticals better. Go learn you some psychopharmacology, ya fuckin' quacks!

Wait, where did I even learn that word? Ah well. Fuck it. Probably some spelling test from Hell.

Anyway, as the subject header suggests, the Joker needs to go fucking fall in a ditch. He's not fucking helping me get all acquitted and that neat stuff for the hearing to get me out of this nuthouse. WHICH IS REALLY SCARY, BY THE WAY.

Thumbs is scaring me. She got her name because she used her thumbs to kill her ex-boyfriends by jamming those thumbs through their eyes and into their brains. Why she is even in general population I have no goddamn idea, and it reinforces my notion that the entire Arkham staff is batshit fucking insane and/or evil criminals torturing the inmates.

I bet they even fucking experiment on the patients here with some sort of wacko weaponized hallucinogen agent or some shit!

Anyway, yeah, right now I'm hiding in the corner of our cell, and talking about the fuggin' ugly Arkham jumpsuits they have here. Hunter orange jumpsuits against hospital white walls?! What the fuck were the Arkham guys thinking? This isn't calming, this is really freaking…ohgodI'mgoingtofuckinghaveastroke

They need to call their goddamn Arkham interior designers or something. My-fucking-god.

And Joker still sucks. He's being incredibly unhelpful to me getting acquitted. No wonder the prosecutor got him to testify against my sanity; the guy makes me out to be a complete loon. And myfuckingawd, they got Helen to testify too. I actually did get to punch her in the face, and then they drugged me again, and I was pissed for a couple minutes, before I started seeing pink elephants again and quieted down.

So yeah…I'm probably totally screwed and gonna die here. Oh damn it's the man nurse again, gotta go.


	15. New Cellmate

Jill Gabriel

Still Arkham

Subject: New Cellmate

So yeah, I got a new cellmate after Thumbs tried to kill me. I maybe sorta kinda told her that she was insane and that I'll be fucking damned before I let her touch me, and she tried to kill me with her thumbs. Cuntpunt. The bitch went down like a redwood.

So now I'm in a cell with a man, under high supervision (so that sexytiem doesn't happen, but my god why would it even? This is a fucking asylum, not the Love Shack. Maybe they're cautious about rapetiem instead?), since they didn't have any other free cells at the moment. And this guy is…harmless enough, sorta, but he's creepy and he won't stop telling really crazy riddles. What was his name? Lemme ask.

Edward Nigma. Oh. E. Nigma. That's cute.

Wait…alright, fuck, another riddle. 'I am courageous yet cowardly, large and small; I can fly but I cannot. What am I?'

Dammit. This one is hard. I'll have to get back to him on that one. And I'll have to get back to this diary later, because here comes that manry nurse again. I swear, she has a moustache.


	16. Asshole

Jill Gabriel

Arkham…still

Subject: Asshole

Alright, the riddles are really pissing me off by now. I figured out that last one, by the way A chickenhawk. Ho ho, ha ha. It is to laugh.

So yeah, Nigma is a douchebag. Likes to brag about how he's a billion times smarter than I'll ever be, and says that my 'incapability to solve his riddles, of which even a child of the age of five could solve' proves that I'm mentally handicapped compared to him. Asshole.

Found out which cell Helen is in. She's with some eco-terrorist. Isley, or something. I hope she's twice as crazy as Thumbs was.

So yeah, right now I'm at recreation time, and the Joker is here too, and he's totally kicking Crane's ass at Candyland. He's kicking mine too. Fuck. C'mon you bitch; give me two fucking blue squares! God, you better give me the two blue squares, because my life has been shit lately! Satan, you owe me!!

Fuck. Alright, Joker is like one spot away from the rainbow finish square. Crane just got the licorice vampire card, so he's all pissed off and moving back like half the board. My turn. Eat it, Crane.

FUCK

FUCK FUCK FUCK

I CAN'T BELIEVE I GOT THE FUCKING CANDYCANE GUY

FUCK

I DON'T WANNA GO BACK TO THE BEGINNING AGAIN

FUCK

OH SCREW YOU NIGMA

I DON'T CARE IF YOUR SKILLS AT CANDYLAND ARE SO SUPERIOR TO MINE THAT I WOULDN'T EVEN HAVE GOTTEN THREE CARDS OFF BEFORE YOU WON

WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT ANYWAY

YOU CAN'T EVEN WIN AT CANDYLAND IN THREE TURNS

NOT EVEN IF YOU GET THE CHOCOLATE MONSTER CARD

SHUT THE HELL UP CRANE

NOBODY ASKED YOU ABOUT THE MECHANICS OF CANDYLAND OR IF IT WAS POSSIBLE TO WIN IN THREE TURNS OR NOT

OR IF IT WAS A MARKOV CHAIN

WHAT THE HELL IS A MARKOV CHAIN ANYWAY

YES JOKER, I NEED TO REPEAT EVERYTHING I'M SAYING BY WRITING IT DOWN IN THE DIARY. IT'S IMPORTANT.

QUIT READING MY DIARY YOU JERKOFF.

OH FUCK YOU I DON'T EVEN CARE IF YOU WON OR NOT.

Bastards.


	17. Boredom in Arkham

Jill Gabriel

Still Arkham…Still

Yeah, so after Riddler (I figured out his villain name is 'The Riddler', so that's better than his real name, which I figured out is Edward Nashton) beat Joker three times in a row at Candyland, and proved that you CAN win at Candyland in three turns given that you're either

A. Lucky

Or

B. Cheating like a dog

Guess which one Riddler did. I still say he's a cheating fucking bastard, but Crane says that he won fair and square. I figured out Crane's villain alterego-slash-other personality is called 'Scarecrow'. Which is kinda scary, especially when he randomly lapses into it. Oh, and he's a shrink or something, because he randomly lulls you into a false sense of security and then starts running his sticky metaphorical fingers through your mind, hunting for the slightest weakness. He likes to find out your fears. I barely snapped out of it in time before he got it out of me. Sneaky bastard.

So yeah; Crane is a sneaky psychological psycho, Riddler is a proud pompous prick, and Joker is a freaky fucking fool. And all three are the only friends I have here in Arkham Asylum.

I'm so fucked.

So my three friends and I, even though we all kind of wish one another were dead, hang out together…a lot. Helen isn't allowed to be in the same room as Joker because she worships him too much and it's 'bad for her mental state to be near him'. So she's not allowed to be in the same room. I laugh at her.

I LAUGH AT YOU HELEN

KAAAAAHEHEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAHEHEEHEHEHEE

Whoa….wtf? Kefka moment, much? Riddler's asking what the fuck was that, and I'm telling him that I'm gloating, and to go back to his paper mache question mark. We're in arts and crafts right now. Joker is making a pipe bomb, but I'm sure as fuck not going to be tattling on him. Crane is making what looks like a Freddy Krueger glove with syringes on the fingers. I don't know where he got the syringes.

Me? I'm making a noose. You can't tell by looking at it though. But it's a noose.

Helen's making…a capital J. Wooden, sanded. And I think she's hiding shivs inside of it. Great.

Well, I'll be getting back to you in a little while, diary, Alan, creepers. I'm getting wet newspaper and glue all over the diary. Funny; I'm starting to rely on all these psychos to conserve my sanity, WHICH I DO HAVE BECAUSE I AM COMPLETELY SANE. That and…well, this diary. You creepers are the only people who know the whole truth.

Alright, bye. Man-nurse likes to hover when she sees me trying to hide this diary. I think she's a woman, anyway. She has a moustache. And it's black. Okaygottagobye


	18. Killing Time

Jill Gabriel

Arkham...still.

Subject: Killing Time

So yeah, Arkham is a hell of a lot less interesting than I'd thought it'd be. Right now we're all in the rec room, and the Joker is arguing with Riddler about the characters on Days of our Lives.

Yeah. The soap opera.

Helen's just hanging around, like I am. We're not talking. She still thinks I'm a psycho and I still think she's a sycophantic bitch. So we're about even.

I'm pretty damn sure that Riddler cheats at Candyland now. Like, I'm _really_ sure that he does. There is no way you can legitimately beat Candyland in three turns, from what I've tried, and unless Nashton is the messiah of Candyland, then he's cheating.

Alright, I've got the remote, and I'm changing the channel; Dominick Dunne's Power, Privilege and Justice is on right now and we've only got like ten minutes before we go back to our rooms, so I want to catch the end.

Dammit, Joker, it's my turn to pick what we watch on TV. You just got an entire episode of Days of our Lives; no, we're not watching Degrassi next, so fuck you. No, I don't give a damn if you

Fuck

Shit

BASTARD. Alright, Power, Privilege and Justice is on an episode I've seen before, with the Menendez brothers, so we're good. Fine, you bastard; you can watch your Degrassi.

Yes, I do need to write all of this down into the diary. It's a chronicle of my slow descent into BATSHIT FUCKING INSANITY.

Nurse is here; we're getting thrown out of the rec room for being so loud. So ha, Joker.

HA.

ENJOY THE MAKE-BELIEVE DEGRASSI IN YOUR HEAD.


	19. Scrabble

Jill Gabriel

Arkham...still.

Subject: Scrabble

We're all playing Scrabble in the rec room, since we lost TV privileges after yesterday's fight over the remote. I'm missing Forensic Files, dammit. But, back to the Scrabble game.

It's about the most fucking epic thing I've ever seen.

Okay, I just put down 'conundrum'. Yes Croc, it's a word. Killer Croc doesn't believe me when I say conundrum is a word. DAMMIT CROC, IT'S A WORD. Ask Crane or Riddler, they probably know.

...

SEE. CRANE SAYS IT'S A WORD TOO. Bite me.

No, I was just kidding; don't bite me for real; I SAW what you did to that guard's hand.

Yeah, journal, Killer Croc is really goddamn scary. He's got this disease or something that makes him like eight fucking feet tall and covered in what look like scales, and he's got scary fucking teeth too. He mauled a guard the other day. And by 'the other day', I mean like a month ago. They just, just let him out of solitary.

Oh dammit, Crane just put down 'magnanimous'. Crane turned out to be a Scrabble Nazi, because he's really goddamn good at it. Riddler too. Joker looks sort of pissed off because he sucks at Scrabble.

My god this is SERIOUS BUSINESS. You'd think we were deciding the fucking fate of the free world from how serious everyone looks and how goddamn long it takes for anyone to actually take their turn. Any of you creepers read American Psycho? Remember when Bateman is freaking out over the Business Card Contest? Yeah, it's like that, but with asylum inmates and Scrabble.

QUIXOTESQUE IS NOT A WORD JOKER

TAKE IT OFF THE BOARD

Oh, is it a word then? What's the definition?

...

No, Joker, quixotesque is not when someone is like Don Quixote. No, really. Take it off the goddamn board.

I WILL GET A FUCKING DICTIONARY IF I HAVE TO

Okay, so Joker finally took quixotesque off the board, because it's an imaginary word. He goes again.

He put down 'Osmosis'. Now he's on the double square, but we have a special rule for double points. He has to use the word in a sentence to get the double points.

...

'I freed the Jews from Osmosis, Egypt' is not correct, Joker. No, really, it's not. OSMOSIS IS NOT A PLACE AND IT'S NOT IN EGYPT EITHER

So Joker's getting pissy with us and he spelled the world 'homicide' instead. It's a real word, and when he had to define it, he said, 'What is going to happen at the end of this Scrabble game'.

Riddler's turn and he just spelt...sesquioxidizing. That's so not a word. Crane is getting the dictionary.

NO FUCKING WAY IT'S A WORD

THERE IS NO WAY

How many goddamn points?

HOLY FUCKING HELL NO WAY YOU CHEATING BASTARD

RIDDLER JUST GOT 1674 POINTS FOR SPELLING SESQUIOXIDIZING. FIFTEEN SPACES ALONG THE EDGE OF THE BOARD, AND SIXTEEN HUNDRED POINTS. THAT'S SO INSANE. I'M NEVER PLAYING SCRABBLE WITH YOU AGAIN.

Crane is taking his turn, and we're still all yelling at each other about whether sesquioxidizing is legal. Whatever he's spelling, there's no goddamn point if we don't knock down Riddler's sesquioxidizing.

Wait, Crane, you can't spell a letter off of the table. No, you can't. Yeah, gimme the rules and I'll point it out to you.

...Okay, so it doesn't exactly SAY that we can't...wait, what are you...

NO FUCKING WAY

CRANE YOU HAD BETTER BE SHITTING ME RIGHT NOW YOU DID NOT JUST DO THAT

Crane just spelt 'ethylenediametetraaceta tes'. TWENTY EIGHT FUCKING LETTERS. I DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW MANY POINTS THAT IS.

IT'S SO NOT A WORD

REALLY

YES GIMME THE DICTIONARY AND I'LL...chemical? It's a chemical? EDETIC ACID MY ASS. You're all a buncha fucking cheaters, that's what you are. Riddler and Crane are now arguing over the table over whose word was better, and whose word was legal. Joker just threw the Scrabble board and

-Abrupt jagged scribble, end of entry-


	20. Fucking Joker

Jill Gabriel

Arkham...still.

Subject: Fucking Joker

Alright, sorry the last entry ended so abruptly, creepers. Joker threw the Scrabble board...and it hit me in the face. Broke my nose. Bastard.

Crane won our game of Scrabble with like a billion points, because he's a Scrabble Nazi. Riddler came in second, I came in third, and Joker came in fourth because he sucks.

Right now...we're playing charades, because after Joker threw the Scrabble board, we're not allowed to play board games anymore. Like I said, fucking Joker. My nose is all wrapped up by the nurse that looks like a man, and I'm about to try and emulate an elephant. Here we go.

...

Okay, my turn ran out. Everyone sucks at charades. It's me, Helen, Crane, Riddler, that cellmate of Helen's, Pamela Isley (she calls herself Poison Ivy for some reason), and Killer Croc. They all suck beyond belief. Crane thought I was trying to emulate incredibly bad food poisoning. Riddler is an asshole and suggested I was trying to reenact when Joker threw the Scrabble board and broke my nose, and blood was spurting all over the place. I hate that guy.

Joker walked into the room. I guess he's out of solitary confinement now. Woo, feel my joy. He wants to play.

Fine Joker, you can play. No, I don't want to act out when you threw the Scrabble board. You guys are such dicks.

Crane's taking his turn now. He's doing something with his hands; it's kinda sweeping, and I can't tell what he's doing.

What, what?

Um, Joker just got it. In like five seconds. He said, "Freddy Krueger". DAMN. Riddler's speechless because he's not the best at anything anymore AND HE FUCKING LOST AHAHAHA. Joker's going up and taking his turn. Okay, damn, he's doing something on the floor, looks like he's setting something up...Riddler's saying 'setting up explosives', and Joker laughed at him. Crane's saying, 'hiding a body', and Joker shook his head. I just said 'Gutting a corpse' and he's ignoring me.

Time's up. He was...doing...

My fucking God. He says it was 'making a pie. You're all so uncreative'.

...

It turns out that Joker's the charades messiah. He can't be beaten. We've been playing for almost the entire fucking hour. It sucks.

Wait

DAMMIT JOKER THAT WAS NOT A PTERODACTYL

THAT WAS A BIRD AND YOU KNOW IT

NO WAY, YOU KNOW I WAS RIGHT, THE PAPER CARD HERE THAT WE WROTE ON SAYS THAT YOU PUT 'BIRD'

BIIIIIIIRD

I WILL ARGUE WITH YOU NO MATTER HOW MUCH YOU SAY IT WAS A PTERODACTYL

YOU'RE FUCKING CHEATING AT CHARADES, WHO THE HELL DOES THAT

YOU'VE GOT NO GODDAMN ROOM TO TALK, RIDDLER, YOU CHEAT AT CANDYLAND

YES YOU DO DON'T YOU FUCKING LIE TO ME

Shit, oh shit the nurses are coming because we're all fighting by now. Crane and Joker are arguing, Riddler and I are screaming at one another, Helen is actually shouting up at Killer Croc (I told you she was a crazy bitch) and Ivy seems to have just left.

Shit

Bye


	21. Screwed over, Again

Jill Gabriel

Arkham...still.

Subject: Screwed over, again

So...yeah. We're all in isolation. Every one of us. Me, Helen, Riddler, Joker, Crane, Croc; Croc actually took a bite at Helen.

We all were released at the same time, which is a bad time. We're outside now, in the yard behind Arkham. It's raining. We're playing Red Rover. Yes, I'm writing while playing Red Rover, mainly after each person runs through. It's hard but I'm doing it. I'm arm-in-arm with Crane and Helen, and our side of the chain has me, Crane, Helen, and Ivy. The other side has Joker, Riddler, some guy named Jervis Tetch (wearing a hat, calls himself the Mad Hatter), and this really fucking scary guy named Victor Zsasz covered in tally marks. Apparently he's a mob serial killer executioner guy. Killer Croc isn't allowed to play since he'd break our arms, so he's sitting out with some weird guy named Maxie Zeus.

Alright, they asked for Helen, and so we sent her. She ran over towards Joker and he raised his arm (he's arm-in-arm with Riddler and Zsasz) and caught her in the throat. She's choking on the ground right now. It's pretty fucking funny. Everybody's laughing, except Crane, but Crane is smirking.

We're sick people.

Helen came crawling back. We asked for Tetch. He came at Ivy and Helen, and Helen's grip is too fucking weak and he got through. Dammit. Joker's team is winning; we're LOSING. Tetch is laughing and walking back. Alright, Joker asked for Crane. And Crane is running over...

HOLY SHIT AHAHAHAHA

JOKER TOTALLY KICKED CRANE IN THE CROTCH WHEN HE RAN OVER

CRANE'S ON THE GROUND AND THE ENTIRE RED ROVER GAME BROKE OUT INTO A HUGE GODDAMN BRAWL

SHIT

WRITE BACK LATER


	22. The Brawl

Jill Gabriel

Arkham...still.

Subject: The Brawl

Ugh...we're all in isolation again. Our huge Red Rover-turned-brawl got us all isolation for the next month. It sucks. My nose is broken again, and I got punched in the ovaries. We're all in the infirmary right now getting patched up.

So once Joker kicked Crane in the nuts, the entire game broke out into a huge fight. Crane recovered after a little bit and jumped Joker, and was actually losing. Helen ran over and grabbed Crane, but Croc came in and thought she was helping Crane and, since he's kind of in with Joker, he actually beat the hell out of her. Well, after Joker punched Helen in the eye, of course. Joker ripped out a chunk of Helen's hair and Croc snapped off a couple of fingers. Damn genetics, making him all crazy like that. So Helen's missing three fingers on her right hand now, and a chunk of hair, and has a black eye.

After the fight started, I ran up to Riddler and headbutted him. Turns out, the goofy-looking bastard's more dangerous than he looks. He broke my nose (AGAIN), knocked out a couple teeth, and gave me a huge fucking bruise on my left side. I managed to reach up and grab his crotch and do a twisty sort of thing and he kind of fell over, and then we were having a good old catfight on the concrete. He's a mean shit. I've got two black eyes and a split lip, and the bastard punched me in the ovaries. He's walking funny and I managed to get in one good swing at his face. All in all, I lost.

Crane's got a black eye, split lip, and is bleeding all over himself from his mouth. He's really pale and he looks tired. Feel kinda bad for the guy. After he jumped Joker, he and Tetch got into it. Tetch is complaining about a migraine. I feel bad for Crane, actually. He looks like he's in a lot of pain, probably from the Joker kick.

Joker himself is looking pretty cheery. He's got a cut on his cheek and there's a big bruise on his cheekbone. I don't feel too bad for the guy.

Croc is getting treated for a couple broken teeth. Yeah, he bit Helen and bit into the BONE and a couple teeth broke off in her hand. Crazy bastard.

Ivy never got into the actual fight, not until Zsasz took the opportunity to go after her with a shiv. She's got a couple scratches but apparently took self-defense classes or something, because Zsasz looks like he got the worse end of the deal, actually. We're all sitting in the infirmary right now.

And you know what? Do you know what proves our insanity? What proves we're all fucking insane?

When the guards dragged us back into the building, goddammit all we were _laughing_. That's right, we were all laughing like hell when we were being dragged inside. Well, I don't think Crane was, but I was laughing and Joker was laughing and Croc was laughing and...

...why are the only people I was laughing with happened to be the really insane people?

So anyway, right now we're all hanging out in the infirmary and either being pissy with one another or just chatting. Crane isn't talking to anyone. Riddler's telling me that my attacking him is just a sign that I'm jealous of his obvious superiority. I'm telling him that he can go die in a fire because he's an egotistical prick. Then I'm grinning at him and telling him that I want a rematch, and he's smirking back and saying that it'll have to wait for a month or so, but after we're out of solitary then he'd be more than happy to beat me like a redheaded stepchild. Maybe Riddler's not such a prick as I thought he was.

Wait.

Joker's asking Helen if there're any hard feelings. She's getting ready to be shipped off to Gotham General to have what's left of her hand sewn up, and she's teary and ignoring him. I kinda feel bad for her now. I'm asking her if she's alright, and she's telling me to go to Hell. Now Joker's looking at me and saying that once we get the Scrabble board back, he's going to prove to me that quixotesque is a word, and I'm telling him that it's soooo not a word, and that he's a dog-faced liar.

He threw a speculum at me. I told him that he's a nasty fuck and to stop throwing speculums at me. Wait, Helen's being lead out. Some other woman is coming in. Oh, it's that lady doctor that's been treating Joker...Quin? Oh, Quinzel. Yeah, she's talking with Joker right now and leading him out. Croc's telling me that Helen wasn't a good eat. I'm telling him that we're not actually friends anymore, so it's not my problem.

He told me that he's curious as to what I taste like. Now he's laughing as he's getting lead off to his cell, and I'm kind of freaked out now. Tetch is leaving, and Crane is patched up and I'm telling the guy that I feel for him, and he's being a prick and ignoring me like I'm a moron. Riddler and I are getting shoved off our cots and lead off now, so I've got to go. See you in a month, creepers.


	23. HOLY

Jill Gabriel

Arkham...still.

Subject: HOLY

Yeah, so we got out of isolation. And do you know whyyyyy we got out of isolation so early?

BECAUSE THERE'S A HUGE FUCKING JAILBREAK GOING ON.

Yeah. I'm writing fast, and running at the same time, because apparently Joker got loose somehow and fucking got into the control panel to open an entire block's cells. I was one of these. Riddler was too. I just let Crane loose, and he said absolutely nothing and shoved me out of the way while he was walking off down the hall that prick let's see him get out on his fucking own next time goddamn.

Helen's loose. She's stalking Joker, who I can see now; he's got that blond doctor on his arm, except she doesn't look normal. And Joker just kicked Helen in the stomach and left with Dr. Quinzel, and Ivy's grabbing Helen and dragging her off. Looks like I've got my chance to get the hell out of here. Whoop; there goes Zsasz and Zeus. Aaaand there goes Tetch, too. My god, you oughta see this place; the House of Bedlam is a goddamn madhouse today; more than usual. I've gotta get the fuck out of here.

OH MY GOD IT'S KILLER CROC I GOTTA GO


	24. Jailbroke

Jill Gabriel

Holy Crap not in Arkham

Subject: Jailbroke

Alright, so I'm alive. And whole. Killer Croc charged after me when he caught sight of me, but I hid from the bastard in all the commotion of guards trying to get the inmates back in the asylum. I got loose, though; right now I'm hiding in the city.

Actually, I'm hiding in a closed dumpster. It smells...horrible in here. Trying to write in the dark, but the lid's broken so I've got enough light to write with. I'm still in my orange Arkham jumpsuit, so I'm gonna need to get out of this thing soon or they'll spot me like I'm a fucking road hazard cone.

So...alright, thoughts need to go here. Thoughts on what I'm gonna do next. I'd kinda gotten used to the idea of hanging out in Arkham until I died, playing Scrabble with psychopaths and sociopaths and all the loonies of Gotham. But no, I'm gonna be loose for however long I can be, and now I need a plan. I can't go home to Alan; they'll look for me there, and I'm not too sure that Alan won't turn me in. He swears I'm sick, and I'm _**not. **_So Alan's out. I don't think I'll be able to make out of Gotham for awhile, since they'll be looking for me, so hiding out in Metropolis or Bludhaven is out. God, I wouldn't want to go to Bludhaven anyway; I'd rather stew in Arkham. Yeah, Gotham's not a safe city, but that doesn't mean that Bludhaven would be any better. Metropolis has mom and dad, but I wouldn't be able to talk with them anyway, since the cops are probably going to be looking there for me.

So now, I've got these options, creepers:

I can:

A. Hide out in Gotham. I'll need a new set of clothes, a fake name, a new look; ditch this identity for a little while, maybe...a little longer than that.

B. Go back to Arkham. I didn't run screaming from Killer Croc just to walk right back in and rot.

C. Find somebody to work with. Joker...Joker's an asshole, and plus, he's apparently got all his attention focused on Dr. Quinzel, who's apparently gone rogue. So yeah, I'm not going after him for a thug position. Crane, wherever he went, would probably use that toxin of his I've heard so much about to melt my psyche, so he's right out. I could hunt down Ivy and Helen, if they're still together, but I don't know if Ivy wants me around or if Helen's even still willing to talk with me. Or I can hunt down...eurgh, Riddler, and absorb backhanded compliment after backhanded compliment and veiled insult to my intelligence.

D. Find Killer Croc and commit suicide by Croc.

Hurm...I don't know what I'll do yet. I'm hungry, and I'm really tired, and I'm...wait...what is that?

OH MY GOD

THERE'S A DUMP TRUCK AND IT'S PICKING UP THE DUMPSTER I'M IN

OHMYGOD OHMYGOD

WHAT DO I DO

THE DUMPSTER IS TIPPING SIDEWAYS AND UPSIDE DOWN AND THE LID IS STARTING TO OPEN OHMYGOD I'LL WRITE LATER MY LIFE SUCKS BYE


	25. This is shit

Jill Gabriel

A shitty abandoned building somewhere downtown

Subject: This is shit

So, I got out of the dumpster, and just in time, too. Too goddamn close to falling in and getting crushed in the compactor. So that broken dumpster lid? Yeah, it turned out to be a Chekhov's Gun; I grabbed that while falling out and saved myself. Fuck was that one close.

So I just mugged some lady for her clothes. A kid my age, actually. She wasn't too happy when I stole her clothes and left her an Arkham jumpsuit to work with. But, eh, what do I care? I'm a criminal, after all. I'm _cray-zee_.

Fuck my **_life_**.

So right now I'm hanging out in an abandoned building. You know, sleeping. I got a burger with the money I found in that kid's pocket. I'm really tired right now; I can see cops patrolling the streets, looking for us fucking crazies. Really, really tired...

OHSHITTHERE'SARAT

FUCK FUCK FUCK

IT'S A RAT

IT'S TRYING TO GET MY HAMBURGER

NO WAY YOU FURRY FUCK GET THE HELL BACK

...So I just lost a fight with a rat. He stole my fries when I wasn't looking. I'm going to smash that little fucker's head in next time I see him. Now I have half a hamburger but no fries. I wanted my FUCKING FRIES

AOWIRISLCMGJAOFJRNIDF

...fuck

FUCK

...So...creepers, I just put my foot through some drywall. I tried to kick the wall and...my foot went through it. Cheap goddamn buildings all falling to SHIT. How the HELL am I going to get out of here now??

Wait, let me just...put my other foot on the wall...and push...

And yes, I'm still writing during all of this. This journal is the only thing that believes me. You creepers wouldn't believe me if I told all of this to you, would you? No, you wouldn't; you'd never believe me, you'd call the men in white coats to come and drag the insane bitch away. So, going to push now.

[Jagged scribble, end of entry]


	26. Maaaybe screwed

Jill Gabriel

Still in that shitty building downtown

Subject: Maaaybe screwed

So...I'm prettty sure I hav a cuncussion righ now, and miiiiight have opend sume imprtant artery. Maaaaybe. Let me, a gigentic fcking morun, tell you houw.

So I had my fooot on that drywill and trying to get my othfr foot out off it, right? Aan I'm jus pushing on teh wall, an then I pushd reel hard, and got mu foot out. Gawd I'm dizzy rite now. My handriting sucks. Dizzzyy

DIZZY

K, an dd then I pusehd too hard and kinda flew backwards I think, and just kept falling backwarads an couldn't stopm myself. And I just kept faling bwackwards and then I think I hit a pane of laglass or somethin. Yah, I hit a pain of lglass. It's all in pieses all around me. Hit my head kinnndsa hard. Dizzy. Bleeeding a lot. Hand sis stuck in the window parrt that din't break. Bleedin alot.

Rat stole the rest of my hamburger. Fucker.

Welll, im gonna try n fixit. F it don't work, im ded.


	27. Saved by a crazy motherfucka

Jill Gabriel

Shitty building. Still.

Subject: Saved by a crazy motherfucka

So okay, two things.

One, I'm alive and I don't have a concussion or a fractured skull. I'm cut all to hell, but coherent again. Yayz.

Two, it turns out that Harvey Dent isn't dead.

Weren't expecting that last one, huh? Neither was I. So I couldn't get my fucking hand out of the glass, was too incoherent to do anything to help myself, and was probably going to die.

Turns out that I was squatting [and bleeding out] in the same building that Harvey Dent was hiding out in. Because I blacked out, and woke up not dead. And he was like...over there, on the other side of this shitty room. With a tiny TV that I didn't know was in here. And I wasn't laying in glass and bleeding out anymore. Actually, I was laying in a corner of the room that was onlyslightly less dirty and was actually full of spiders. Well, yeah, I got the spiders off pretty easy, though it freaked me out, and then I got up and figured out that I wasn't quite ded yet. Dead, sorry.

So he's over there, and holygodwhatthefuck half his face is gone and I'm like 'WTF OMG'. And then after I freak out, he's like, looking back and going, 'STFU. You almost died. Get out.' And that pisses me off, because he just said I almost died, and so I kind of hobble up towards him and the TV [totally not freaking out about him being a guy everybody thought was dead and all, and who miiiight be a zombie by that reasoning], and then tell the guy, "Hey, fuck you. You're dead. You don't get to tell me when the fuck to get out."

Well that pissed Dent off. I think. 'Cuz he pulls out this coin, and he flips it, and it's the shiny side up. And I can only see half his face at this point, so I'm not actually intimidated because, fuck, he looks so goddamn _gorgeous_. I mean, I'm saying that in the 'fuck I admire how goddamn beautiful that guy is', not 'holy hell I'd like to tap that o bby yes plz'. And he doesn't look at me while he's saying,

"You live long enough to get out."

"Hey," I tell him, "You're talking to an escaped Arkham patient. And this is like a five fucking floor building. So I'm not goddamn leaving, goddammit. You can fucking share." And that's when the guy looks at me, and says, "You're young for an Arkham patient."

I'm like, 'I got this guy's interest'. Yayz. Then I see that he still looks kind of pissed, and I'm like D:

Yes, I did just use an emoticon thar. Because I felt like it. Because Dent being pissed off and looking kind of crazy made me sadface. Like this. D:

"Well..." I kinda start, "Actually, it was one huge misunderstanding-slash-conspiracy. And a ditsy idiot friend that got me all caught up with the Joker. See, this is how it went down," And then he pulls out a fucking gun and FUCKING SHOOTS AT ME.

"You had five minutes to get out," He tells me, "Long enough."

So now I have a burn mark across the side of my face, the left side actually, where a fucking hot bullet almost took half my face off. I don't know if he actually meant to miss or not, but he's still a fucker for trying at all. I saw the other half of his face, but like...in passing, because I was running away already. I ran off because he's crazy. Now I'm in the third floor of the five floor building, hiding from Harvey Dent who either thinks I've left or is planning to hunt me down and shoot me like Old Yeller when he finds me here again.

Does it ever suck any less? Does ANYTHING in my recent life ever suck any less? Fifteen birthday has caused the last...um...five...five months? Five months of pure shit. It's turned the last five months of my life into SHIIIIIIT.

SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT

And I might be going a little off-kilter. Maybe.

OKAY, HOLY FUCK, I WAS RIGHT; DENT IS LIKE WALKING THROUGH ALL THE ROOMS TRYING TO MAKE SURE I'M GONE. I'M HIDING UNDER A DESK IN SOME SHITTY LITTLE OFFICE, AND HE'S COMING IN MY DIRECTION. FUCK. FUCK FUCK FUCK. I'LL LIKE, WRITE LATER, IF I'M NOT DEAD. FUCK.


	28. NA

Jill Gabriel

Subject: N/A

I...can't even describe what's goddamn happened since I wrote last. It's just...fuck, what can I even say?

Harvey Dent chased me outta the building. I ran for the air ducts, thought I'd crawl away real sneaky-like. Well, the heat was on, and I couldn't fucking tell you how if I tried. It was just...on. And hot. So fucking hot. I burned the shit outta my hands. Jumped back, turned, tried to run past Dent (who'd fucking seen me by then, and was giving me this 'Are you retarded, mayhap?' look). Well, he shot me. I just realized this, right now, 'cos I'm sitting in an alleyway writing. And I'm bleeding. A lot. And fuck it hurts me.

I got away, though. 'I Believe in Harvey Dent'. I believe that Harvey Dent is fucking insane and would've shot me dead without a second goddamn thought.

God...

What did this city come to? Our heroes are fuckass crazy and scarred all to hell, our villains dress like clowns and routinely gun people down to cure boredom, and our resident saint/lunatic dresses like a goddamned flying rat and decided, one day, that he was going to put aside his personal life to dress up and go out to beat up the bad men that killed mommy and daddy. Hell, I don't even know if that crazy fuck ever had a reason to start. Did his mommy and daddy dump him in the gutter, and did he decide that the criminal element of this city was a perfect target to relieve frustrations? Was he some kid hiding in the closet of a foster home hoping to God or whatever the hell he thought could ever love him that daddy was too drunk to look for him there?

Or did that happen with the Joker, whoever he is...whoever he _was?_ Was he just like me, at some point in time? Naive and looking for a good time, ending up in shit so deep that he was drowning in it? I wonder if he ever ended up shot, crouching in a dark Gotham alleyway in the middle of winter, bleeding all over himself? I wonder if he was ever a nice guy.

I just...I just don't know anymore. I wonder about things. I wonder about too many things. I'm kinda delirious right now...it's been hours since I got shot. In the gut, actually. And believe...believe me; it hurts. It's the most fucking painful place you can get shot, I think; it hurts so bad. The only reason I'm even outside is because Dent dragged me out, kicking and screaming and sobbing because _it hurt so fucking bad_. He left me at the mouth of this alley, which is right next to his building, and this is where I am. I can't get up, I can't move beyond kicking a little and rolling over, and rolling over takes so much effort. I can't do anything. I passed out awhile right here, from the pain. I just woke up just a few minutes ago, and it still hurts, but it's numbed by now, and that's bad, real fucking bad.

I think I'm gonna die here. I'm real sorry if I do, because this adorable little apocalyptic diary would end here, but I might. Even if somebody does save me, then what? Then I get to run back to Arkham and sit there and stare at my hands and drool, like every other prisoner. Like everybody else does in Gotham.

This city eats souls, I think. Turns people, living people, human people, into things. Not people, but things. All of us into Bartleby, that sick scrivener that had no soul.

HA. Listen to me, getting all introspective and shit. We need more fucking comedy in this book; if it's my last entry, then it's going to be A FUCKING GREAT ONE. So I'll tell you all one last great story, before I might/might not die. It's an Arkham story. And it's fucking gold.

So we were all hanging out in the recreation area, right? That's where all the good stories start. And we were sinking to new levels of pathetic and in need of stimulation. We were so fucking bored. And so we decided to tell stories, while somebody, I don't remember who, decided to go off and look for something we could do/play with. We decided to tell stories of what we'd done. And you know what? When people in Arkham want to scare each other, they let Joker start telling stories. So everybody else went first, and Joker was fine with that. We heard a bunch of awesome and amazing things the criminal element of Gotham had done, from Riddler systematically destroying an entire mafia family through riddles and death traps (he made sure to tell us that if they couldn't figure out the riddles, then he was cleaning up the city and doing everyone else a favor anyway,) to Killer Croc's memorable tale of tearing a man to pieces with his bare hands (we didn't know if it actually happened, but we didn't question it because holy fuck that's entirely possible considering it's Killer-fuckin'-Croc,) to Mad Hatter's silly ditty that included a tale about mind control induced by absolute horrific torture and mental anguish (he was happy to tell us, and we were all in freaked out silence [except for Joker, who seemed real amused] while he told it in excruciating detail).

When Scarecrow told us about how he'd gassed and lit Batman on fire, everyone _cheered._ Crane seemed unaffected by the fact that everyone apparently thought him a fucking badass (at least, slightly more than before) now (because fuck, who gets to light Batman on fire? That shit doesn't happen on a regular basis), but I think he was probably satisfied with himself about it. I told about how I'd been kidnapped and committed to Arkham on false terms, everybody seemed kind of 'Fuck, that's bullshit, man', and it made me feel better. Helen gave a long detailed explanation of how she'd elaborately plotted getting in touch with Joker; everybody yawned that one off, and Joker threw something at her. I think it was an old rusted nail he found somewhere.

When Arkham patients want to be scared, they have Joker tell a story. And he did. He told us about how he'd crashed a Wayne party, which everybody already knew about. And then he told us something nobody knew about except for us; he told us about how he'd kidnapped some woman at that party, some stupid bitch that had accidentally smeared her lipstick or something and made a Joker smile. He told us that he'd kidnapped her and tortured the shit out of her back at his sooper-sekrit-hideout-base. And I'm not talking the 'Lololol im gunna keel u' mind torture. He explained, very intricately, how he'd completely wrecked this chick. He'd shoved toothpicks under her fingernails, and pulled out her teeth with pliers, and gouged out an eye, and shoved knives in places...oh god I can't even imagine...places where they shouldn't ever, ever go.

He went fucking Patrick Bateman on this poor girl. He literally used the adjective, "Kind of Patrick Bateman-y" in his story, and outlined some other tortures, which included glass, barbed wire, and a stapler. She eventually died, and he'd just filled her full of knives and a bomb and stuck her somewhere. And she'd taken out a building. When we, all suitably horrified/disgusted/disturbed asked, "Why?", do you know what he told us? He smiled, and he said, "Because I could."

This is why we do not fuck with the Joker. Ever. This is why we all play nice in his sandbox. Because he does this kind of shit because he can. Because Joker is what would happen if you turned Gotham City into a person.

Storytime ended. We got a radio to listen to, because the staff didn't want anyone listening to any more Joker stories either. 'Stuck in the Middle with You' came on and we reenacted the torture scene in Reservoir Dogs, because we could. 'Fly Like an Eagle' came on and we all just laughed, because this was the most miserable fucking place in the most miserable fucking mood to have that song play. We ended up singing to it.

I think I'm almost done here. If Mr. White was right, then I should have the rest of the day before I die. And I hope he's wrong.

Cordially yours {bitches},

Jill Gabriel


	29. Hi!

Kirsten

Subject: Hi?

Hi, whosoever reads this; my name's Kirsten (I'm not telling you my surname, because that'd make me as kooky as ol' Jill), and I found this diary. I found it in the alleyway past where I usually walk to school, next to a dumpster, kinda shoved underneath it. I found it sitting in a huge puddle of blood, a _huge_ one; I didn't find Jill, though. Jill, that's who wrote in this diary before me? She wasn't there. I don't know what happened to her, but I found this, and I decided that I'm gonna keep it. I really shouldn't, because it's a kooky journal, but I want to, for some reason. This Jill sure was a loon, wasn't she? Plots with the Joker, a crazy best friend she projected all her issues onto; real crazy kind of gal. But I'm going to examine this jouranl...dammit, I wrote in pen; this journal. I'm gonna examine this and dissect every bit of this crazy Jill's writing, and try to crack into what she was thinking.

I'll be the next Freud! Except...well, except without shipping you/your mother. Because that's ucky.

Right now, I'm in English class. I've got Psychology next, and that's why I'm keeping this kinda bloodstained journal to examine; I'm going to use it for my senior psychology project, and pass with flying colors! Hell, I'll be the most creative person in class! Awesome. :D

From what I've read of Jill's writing, she's got anger issues, feels inferior to this Helen friend of hers on some subconscious level (maybe for Helen's physical features? There was mention of Jill envying Helen's hair, though not her eyes; that could just be denial on a base level, though), and yet clings to her for one reason or another. If Helen was really as annoying as Jill says here, then Jill would have abandoned her a long time ago; no, Jill seems to need to feel superior in one fact or another over someone else; inferiority complex, possibly? I'm not sure.

Well, enough about Jill the kook; I'll tell you about me. I'm Kirsten, just turned seventeen; I won't even be eighteen when I graduate high school! My birthday is in the summer, that's why; I'm no super genius child or anything, though my reading comprehension is pretty high. Anyway, I'm your average kid; brown hair (I say dirty blonde, everyone else just thinks brown, which means they're wrong), off-green eyes, slightly on the short side, that one nerdy girl that sits in the back of the class and doesn't speak to anybody but a select few friends. Wears one coat all year round, though it's not like I don't wash it or anything; I just wear one comfortable coat all year round. The heat doesn't bother me, not really; it's damn handy in wintertime anyway, so ha ha, anybody who thinks my coat looks creepy, ha ha.

Ha.

Anywho! I'm Kirsten, and I'm writing in a clean journal. Not Jill's. I wouldn't destroy our evidence; unscientific thing to do, that would be. And I think we're going to be friends.

:D :D :D

PS: I'm going to eventually give the journal back to Jill, if I can. It's not mine, after all, and I don't want the crazy ol' bitch to hunt me down for stealing her _preeecious~_


End file.
